I'm Not Perfect
by MetroidOnIce
Summary: A short fic I did a while ago, minor changes, a look into Franziska after her first case against Phoenix.


"Not Guilty."

Phoenix had never felt a pain such as the furious lashings of Franziska's whip still nothing as damaging as what had been done to the von Karma pride – or what was left of it. Franziska clenched her fist so hard, her hand seem to be burning inside her leather gloves. Cursing under her breath again, she banged both fists on the table and left the pathetic courtroom as the fool-hardy lawyer was lifted out. She moved quickly, and somehow, the furious pressure of her high heels didn't break the floor as she was walked taking great care to stamp on the feet of Gumshoe.

Into her limousine, the driver didn't need any command where to go, the path of anger she had left told him what needed to happen.

She arrived at her hotel soon after, her hand on her whip, as a general would have his hand on a sword handle when riding to battle. She spoke nothing to the driver and walked in , giving a look of death to anyone stupid enough to even glance at her. No-one did; the first lost of her 5 perfect career was already known, the second lost of a von Karma to that spiky haired lawyer, the name was once again thrown trough mud.

"Foolish country and their foolish courts. Nothing, nothing! It can't count, I won't let it count." She whispered to herself as she entered her very fine hotel room, throwing her whip on the floor, her hand clenched as always.

Teething anger rose in her as the events sunk in more; it was a shame. It had to be. Everything was done perfectly; even Gumshoe had played his part, so how could he had won?

It was that judge. Foolish senile old man, not a ounce of sense in him. What kind of country was this to give men like that such a high power? She couldn't understand this country's law system.

Through her rage, she felt unstable, she sat herself down on a chair and sighed deeply. All day she had kept her guard up, her proud von Karma blood required her to give an air of coldness, yet, to herself, and only to herself, she could show a small piece on venerability. She bit her lip and slowly whispered:

"Papa.."

Even beyond the grave she could feel his shadow weighing her down, her stubbornness told her the trial had not been lost but she knew the truth, the one she was trying desperately to find any flaws in, that the von Karma legacy was now truly dead and buried. It had started to fall apart when Miles had lost, the biggest blow came with her father's defeat, and now the only hope left to restore it, or even to keep it afloat had been lost, like sand it had slipped trough her fingers.

There was a photo she kept with her of her sister, her father and herself on the hotel' mantelpiece, the image of her father made her feel like she was back In those days when she would been inspected by him during his visits. She felt just like a little girl again.

"Papa.."

Manfred was already quite aged in the earliest memory Franziska had, but never less intimating as he grew older. It was another visit to Germany, he was wearing his fineclothing and his silver-blue hair was showing wear. Franziska, much smaller than her father, even more when just seven-years-old, stood rooted to the ground as her father thought things over, these inspections were common place in her childhood.

"Your mother," he spoke softly, this would be the calm before the storm, "Has told me about your progress in school, Franziska."

"..what did she tell you papa?" said a tiny voice.

She knew exactly what he had been told. One test, she had failed at one. He spoke it very clearly and very much with disgust.

"The way of a von Karma is to do everything with perfection." He huffed and folded his arms in a manner common to him. "Quite frankly, I think it was a waste of time for me to come here."

She wouldn't dare cry, that would be a sign of weakness against the von Karma law that Manfred kept with every word and every movement, and that was an expectation passed on to Franziska.

Perfection. That's all she ever knew, since the moment she could talk, she strived for itjust as her father. She never stopped to ask why; the question never seemed irrelevant; it was the way of a von Karma, pure and simple. Even Edgeworth, not by blood, but my upbrining was expected to do everything Franziska would.

But he was a fool, he had left the name in tatters, his death note was cowardly way out. Would he actually die? No, only the prosecutor in him had fallen to pecies, something she cursed. Grinding her teeth, she swore at Miles under her breath for now leaving the name on her shoulders to bare, her shoulders alone..

A ting of sadness swept over her, she slowly, with out a thought removed her leather gloves to see her own hands, and examining them she walked up to the shiny window to see the vague reflection.

It was times like this when she remembered how young she actually was, a few months out of nineteen, not even an adult yet. She felt pressured, a secret feeling she kept to herself, a sign of weakness in the courtroom was severely damaging. She brushed her gray fringe from her eyes and bowed her head.

It would have been easy to think of Franziska von Karma as nothing more than a spoilt brat; after all she had come from a very well high-class family with fame and fortune at their feet. But it never felt like that to her. Her studies, her life even her entire existence seemed to revolve around trying to please her father – to live up to him – to hold the von Karma name true. But as much as she told herself, over and over again, the words became faint, became nothing more than a recorded message in her mind with no meaning. It wasn't true, her father, she knew as much as anyone, with great admiration and great love to him, he was ruthless, terrifying, and had an obvious dark side to him, sometimes evil. Did she truly want to be like that?

She looked over to the photo again - her sister was smiling happily. She was 28 at this time, unlike Franziska, she never wanted to be a attorney, instead settled for a teacher in Germany, she had married with two children. She suspected but had always kept it quiet to herself: that the very reason for her birth was to carry on the von Karma name in court, something her father bitterly showed over his elder daughter. Franziska was jealous: As the youngest, and their parents in old age now, she was the last chance – even more now when Miles and Manfred were not around, to live out her father's wishes. Yet, her sister seem to be living a happy life, Franziska couldn't appreciate happiness, it wasn't something she was never told to follow. Smile – only at the enemy's defeat, laugh – at a frustrated foe, don't cheer on your own victory, it was expected after all.

She wanted to get out of here, out of this life, but where we should go, and the expectations of her were too restrictive.. Even with her father not here there was a presence in her that kept her from doing what she wanted to do. As a young girl, Franziska had an ambition that she locked out from herself, keeping only the thoughts of law, but sometimes it would come to her. She wanted to study the stars, at night she had seen them burn so brightly, and so wonderful. An enigmatic essence in the sky, she wanted to know more about them.

But would she ever have the chance?

Doubtful. She was far too deep into this.

With a stifle laugh, she made her way to the bathroom. Relax she told herself, relax; a hard day deserves some rest.

One thing not many people knew about Franziska – probably no-one she liked to take bubble baths after a long day, even so more as a stressful one. She prepared it and let her bath run as she dipped her hand into the warmth, waiting for all the stress to vanish.

But the events of that day weren't easy to forget.

In the back of her mind, not to her will she could see everything as it was being replayed n front of her. The loosing, the mess ups, that foolish attorney grinning, that red headed woman and…

That little girl, Pearl. On the first day she saw that girl staring at her with almost disbelief, she was a very naïve girl from she could tell. But, in court when her mother was found out to being doing all that just for her to gain a higher seating in their clan.

She thought nothing of it at the time, now though; she could see her own similarities.

They weren't that much different, both born into a family with strong traditions, both with an over-bearing parent. Franziska, the prosecutor, the upholder of the perfect blood, and that girl, she was powerful in her abilities and she was being pulled along by her mother who even tried to destroy the person she had admired most- Maya Fey.

Franziska stared blankly at the bathroom wall. As much as she tried to force it down, she saw a little bit of herself in that girl when she was her age. Pressure, at such a young age, but then she had something Franziska didn't have. That woman, Maya Fey and that Lawyer, Phoenix, they were both friendly towards her and caring. Standing next to each other in the toughest time, even when the trial seemed hopeless at any angle, and he kept it going, just on that shred of hope, just for those two. Envy struck her harder than any lashings she had given Gumshoe.

She closed her eyes and took at her hand in the bath, she wasn't going to cry, she couldn't, but jealously, and pain seem to catch up to her, she clenched her hand then the first tear dropped. Tighter, as if she had a belief that would stop it, but it was useless, her tears felt more and more, grinding her teeth once, a vicious twist in her mouth she gave up and held her face in her hand gasping "I hate you.. I hate you.." between sobs.

The next day Gumshoe received 40 lashes.


End file.
